


The Ramones T-Shirt

by loyalsaurus



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleep, also this was originally written as an OC fic, and sharing clothes, and swearing, do i reference the mafia? probably, fuck im so gay for millard, i hope piper never finds it, i hope the Giant Rat That Makes All The Rules will forgive me, i wrote this super late at night, i'll probably repost this with a fem reader version, lots of gay panic, millard is dashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loyalsaurus/pseuds/loyalsaurus
Summary: “When’s the last time you got a full 8 hours of sleep?” Millard asked abruptly.“Probably nine or ten years ago?” (Y/N) said, choking back a light laugh.“Of course,” Millard nodded, “But you are going to get a full sleep tonight, right?”“...I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Relationships: Millard Nullings/Male Reader
Kudos: 14





	The Ramones T-Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> (Y/N) = your name (y'all should know this by now if you've ever read an xreader fic before) 
> 
> (N/N) = your nickname
> 
> (B/F) = best friend's name
> 
> Millard's nickname is Dashing

“When’s the last time you got a full 8 hours of sleep?” Millard asked abruptly. 

The question caught (Y/N) off guard. He used to ask himself that all the time. As genuine as his smile was - because it really was genuine; it amused (Y/N) not only that Millard was asking, but the answer was absolutely _horrendous_ \- Millard knew that it was trouble. He could spot that grin easily, and by now, he knew all too well what it meant. 

“Probably nine or ten years ago?” (Y/N) said, choking back a light laugh. 

The answer caught Millard off guard. Before asking, he didn’t have any idea what the time might be, but now that he knew, it seems more recent than expected. 

“It was when I got healed,” he added. “They knocked me out, I lost a lot of blood-” 

“Of course,” Millard nodded, “yeah, that’s totally normal.” 

“... You’re not mad?” 

“No, why would I be?” 

At that, (Y/N) began to itch with concern. “Okay,” he said, still with his smile, although his voice cracked in protest. 

“But you are going to get a full sleep tonight, right?” 

There was a lot of things (Y/N) wanted to say in that moment. _“Define a full sleep.” “You can’t make me.” “How about no?”_

In the end, he settled with, “I don’t have a choice, do I?” 

“No, you don’t.” 

~ 

Millard appeared at the bottom of the stairs in boxers and one of (Y/N)'s t-shirts. 

(Y/N) was pretending to sleep on the couch, a book on his chest. 

(B/F), who was reading in the armchair, didn’t even bother to look up. “He’s not sleeping,” he said. 

(Y/N) pretended to snore. 

“He doesn’t even snore,” (B/F) added. (Y/N)'s snore stopped short. 

“(N/N),” Millard said. (Y/N) remained still. _Maybe if I don’t move, he can’t see me._ “(Y/N).” Nothing.

(B/F) sighs, chucking his book across the room and hitting (Y/N) in the head. 

“Hey!” He hissed, quiet as to not wake the children. 

(B/F) got up and retrieved his book. “Isn’t that your Ramones shirt?” He asked and gestured vaguely at Millard. 

(Y/N) looked to Millard only for the blood to rush to his face. 

_How long ago was it when I gave him that? Is this the first time he’s worn it? And with boxers? How can he go from cute to hot?_

(B/F) laughed at the look on (Y/N)'s face. Like a deer in the headlights. A very embarrassed, gay, sleep deprived deer. The Gay Panic alarms were blaring in his mind. 

“Come on,” Millard grabbed his hand and pulled him from the couch, up the stairs. (Y/N) followed, nearly tripped on several steps, until Millard dragged him into bed. 

This was Millard’s room. 

This was Millard’s bed. 

That was (Y/N)'s shirt. 

“Have you ever heard the Ramones?” (Y/N) asked. 

A fitting question, seeing as all he could think about was Millard standing there in that damn t-shirt. 

“Go to sleep.” 

“Just one song-” he started to get up, only for Millard to pull him back down, his arm now wrapped around (Y/N)'s waist. 

Minutes passed. (Y/N) kept staring at the ceiling in awe. _Dashing is going to kill me. I’m going to die. He’s going to give me a heart attack. I might die, right here, in his bed, because of what he’s doing to me. Who knows what else he’ll do? Does he move in his sleep? Is he going to curl around me like I’m a teddy bear? I have to fall asleep before that happens, otherwise I will die. If that happens. But I never sleep through the night. I’m going to wake up, and if he’s cuddling me, I face certain death. This is it. I always thought I’d be shot, or stabbed, or maybe eaten by a hollow. But no. Here I am. In death’s clutches._

“You’re not sleeping.” Millard said, his voice tired. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

“It helps if you close your eyes.” 

_That sarcastic little shit._ (Y/N) obeyed and closed them. Wait. He opened them again. “How’d you know my eyes were open?” 

Millard’s breath hitched. “Lucky guess?” 

“You were staring at me, weren’t you?” He grinned. 

“Oh, my Bird,” Millard groaned. “And here I thought you were done flirting for the night.” 

“You were the one staring.”


End file.
